


The cottage in the hills

by acGranger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drinking Games, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Never Have I Ever, Puns & Word Play, Riding, Smut, slight magical power kink, sober sex though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acGranger/pseuds/acGranger
Summary: Harry goes on vacation, renting a cottage. But why is there a man walking by, not wearing a jacket in the middle of winter?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 112
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020





	The cottage in the hills

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookywoods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookywoods/gifts).



> Dear spooky,  
> this was supposed to be a small ficlet and then I realized halfway through that you preferred something mature and added some smut to. I hope you like it, it was a lot of fun writing it. (I was video chatting with my beta while writing and the look on her face when I read her out of context snippets of smut were worth any struggle I might have had writing it)
> 
> Speaking of my beta: She is the absolute best. Thank you for editing this so fast.

Harry exhaled in relief the moment he appeared in the Scottish countryside. The air was cold and crisp, and there was a thin layer of snow covering the ground and trees. The quiet stood in such a contrast to the bustling he had just left behind that it took him a moment to understand that he was finally here. It was his first vacation since he had become a full auror almost two years ago, his first vacation alone.

A small cobblestone path led to the entrance of the little sanctuary Harry had booked for the next week, surrounded by evergreen bushes and leafless trees. Shouldering his bag, he entered the little stone cottage and looked through the rooms. There was a small kitchen, not even big enough to contain a real table, a bedroom containing a double bed and small dresser, and a bathroom. The largest room was undoubtedly the living room, with its rather disproportionate fireplace and huge windows. 

All in all not a lot of space, but Harry loved it. The furniture looked homely and the faint smell of firewood was good enough to be made into a scented candle. Harry unpacked his bag and settled into the overstuffed armchair next to the fireplace, book in hand, determined to finally relax.

It was getting dark when Harry’s head shot up from his book — his auror reflexes setting in — as he heard the unmistakable sound of snow crunching beneath shoes. Harry checked the windows methodically and found nothing out in the backyard. Shaking his head, he stoked the fire and settled back into the armchair. It had probably only been the fire crackling.

The next morning, Harry sat with a cup of tea at the windowsill in the kitchen, watching the world slowly get covered in a new layer of fine snow. A man appeared in view, strolling along the path, stopping every now and then to look around. As the man neared, Harry first noticed that he only wore a pair of black trousers and a dress shirt, no jacket, no hat, no scarf. A moment later Harry noted the white blond hair and the next thing he knew he stood outside the door, wand drawn.

“Malfoy” 

Malfoy turned to him, stopped dead in his tracks and apparated away. Harry vigilantly checked the windows and his surroundings for the rest of the day.

*~*~*~*

Harry was again sitting in the kitchen, enjoying a very late breakfast, when he saw Malfoy walking past again. The telltale white of his hair contrasted against the dark line of trees behind him. Like the day before he wore no jacket, the sleeves of his shirt were pushed to his elbows but unlike the day before, Malfoy was walking a path further away from the cottage. From his position at the window Harry tried but couldn’t make out the expression on Malfoy’s face when the blond momentarily turned towards his general direction.

It took some effort, but Harry remained in the cottage and stoically forbade himself to think about Malfoy for the rest of the day.

*~*~*~*

Despite it being a vacation, Harry got up early the next day. He ate his breakfast at the kitchen window with his winter boots on. Halfway into Harry’s second cup of tea, Malfoy appeared in between the trees — jacket-less yet again — walking the path that led past the cottage. Patiently, Harry waited for Malfoy to come into proximity, observing every move until then. The moment he was certain that Malfoy was within bounds, Harry threw up an anti-apparition jinx and stormed out of the house.

Outside he threw a sticking jinx at Malfoy’s feet, effectively rooting the man in place. 

“What are you doing here? Why are you following me?” Harry hissed, wand still raised. The shock and confusion on Malfoy’s face vanished and a spiteful laugh escaped his lips. 

“Me following you? Who is on whose fucking property Potter? You do realise that the manor is only behind the hills right? You are technically in my home. So go on, ask me again if I am following you.”

Understanding the meaning behind the words, Harry takes a step back. “You own the cottage? But…” He let his objection fade out, trying to sort his head. 

“Actually I don’t. I own everything up to the cottage. This used to be the house of one of the manors gardeners, years ago. The path is the edge of the property.” The calm and nonchalant way he said it drew Harry back to reality. Malfoy still stood rooted to the ground in midst of an anti-apparition ward on his own land and he had the nerve to be calm about it. 

A blush crept up Harry’s neck and cheeks. “uhm. I- Sorry.” he stuttered, and quickly cancelled the sticking charm and wards, but to his surprise Malfoy didn’t apparate away instantly, he simply stood there and watched Harry. Moments passed and Harry shifted uncomfortably under the calculating gaze. “You- uhm, you wanna come in? Could I offer you tea or something?” The offer was stupid and he knew it. With the manor close by, Harry doubted Malfoy would ever ac-

“Sure.”

*~*~*~*

“So why exactly are you out without a jacket?” Harry asked, desperate to fill the silence left after the initial apology had been given. They sat in the living room, the kitchen had been too small for the two of them. 

“Ever heard of a warming charm Potter? I know it might be a novel concept to you but they do exist,” came the condescending answer out of the armchair opposite him. Harry felt the need to point out that robes were a thing too and did so only moments later. To his surprise the other answered without malice or disdain in his voice. 

“Robes are rather impractical in the snow. They scrape the ground and by the time I even reach the hills it basically acts like a snow plow.” Silence stretched between them again, both men sipping their tea. The discomfort led Harry to blurt out the first thing in his head once again, “Why do you walk the hills anyways?”

It was silent for a moment before Malfoy took a deep breath, “It’s a habit I developed during the war, walking along the property line to… Dammit. I can’t do this sober.” Harry was confused, although he didn’t know whether it was because of Malfoy actually answering, Malfoy cursing or Malfoy implying… implying what? Implying that he would give Harry an honest answer to a very personal question if only he had some liquor in him?

“I, uh, I’ve got some Firewhiskey and mead if you’d like?” And wasn’t that a stupid thing to offer. Harry nearly tried to backtrack and kick Malfoy out of the cottage but there was no snort, no scowl, no nothing. Instead apprehension and barely disguised curiosity were fluttering across Malfoy's face and a moment later he gave the tiniest of nods.

Harry returned to the living room with two mugs precariously stacked on top of each other and an arm full of alcohol. Malfoy’s shoes stood neatly next to the couch while the owner had pulled his feet up onto it. The odd domesticity of the whole situation left Harry speechless but nonetheless he sat down in one of the armchairs, A flick of his wand lit a fire in the fireplace. 

“Are we really doing this?” Harry asked incredulously. 

“Apparently so. Although I have to get a lot more drunk if you want the whole story behind me walking my own fucking land.”

There it was again, the cussing. It still boggled Harry and left him at a loss for words. Instead of answering verbally he reached for the mead, poured some into a mug and offered it to Draco. The blonde sniffed at it and pulled a face, “Didn’t you mention Firewhiskey?” he asked, after a sip of the mead. Harry nodded and held up the bottle of golden liquid. With a sigh, Malfoy conjured two shot glasses out of thin air. 

“What? Are we just gonna take a bunch of shots? Get drunk for the sake of it?” asked Harry. 

“Unless you have a better idea?” A shot disappeared into Malfoys mouth. 

Harry thought about the question for a moment. “I do actually. Let’s play Never Have I Ever. We still take copious amounts of shots but it doesn’t feel so much like alcoholism.” Malfoy raised an eyebrow and Harry launched into an explanation, “You make a statement starting with Never have I ever and if you have done the thing mentioned, you have to take a shot. For example: Never have I ever lived in a manor.” 

Malfoy seemed to have understood, as he reached for the Firewhiskey, refilled his shot, drowned it and refilled again. “Never have I ever saved the world.”

Grumbling under his breath Harry reached for his glass and drank, the alcohol warming his throat on its way down.

His “Never have I ever been transformed into ferret” was met with a scowl and an answering, “Never have I ever had atrocious hair” which was followed by “Drink Potter. That rat’s nest is atrocious and you know it.” 

They kept throwing jabs back and forth until their speech turned blurry and their insults turned into … Harry wasn’t even sure what they had turned into. Compliments maybe?

“Never have I ever been good at potions.” he slurred and watched Draco elegantly tip the shot glass back for the upteenth time. The other had a twinkle in his eyes when he in turn said “Never have I ever ridden a dragon.”

It was most definitely the alcohols fault that Harry mumbled, “Not the one I’d like to ride” before taking his shot. He didn’t even know where that had come from. Grey eyes meet green ones, shock written in both of them. A blush crept its way up Harry’s neck and Draco raised an eyebrow but thankfully remained silent, until…

“Never have I ever been interested in a guy.” Before Harry really registered the question, Draco had thrown back another shot. That meant that Draco Malfoy was interested in a guy. Only when Draco mumbled “So much for that” did Harry realise that he had forgotten to take a shot himself. Hastily he poured the liquid into his mouth, coughing when the liquor nearly went into his airways. Draco raised an eyebrow.

And that was all it took — an unspoken challenge, issued via eyebrow and Harry found himself saying, “Never have I ever made out with a guy” as if to prove something. Nevermind that not even Ron and Hermione knew that about him. He refilled his shot and drank, his eyes never leaving Draco’s face, closely watching the blond swallow more liquor.

“Never have I ever fucked a guy” Draco said and swiftly downed another shot, raising the eyebrow again when Harry didn’t move to take his. “Well, well, well. Never have I ever been fucked then?” And despite it not being his turn and despite there being nothing wrong with his inexperience, Harry blushed at the question and shook his head. Draco reached across the table, took the shot out of Harry’s hand. “And yet, you want to ride a dragon. Interesting...” slurred Draco, throwing the shot back. 

Harry felt his face grow hotter, “Just because I haven’t done it before, doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” 

At that Draco leaned forward, his words surprisingly clear when he said, “That is true. But drunk off your arse isn’t exactly the best way to go about that, now is it?” 

The feeling of the sobriety charm hit him like a truck. 

“Who said anything about being drunk?” retorted Harry as he put his wand back onto table, hoping that his smugness hid the underlying nervousness. Draco’s eyes skimmed across him, assessing him. A few moments later he got off the couch, slowly walking towards Harry, “Tell me then. How far have you gone Potter?” He came closer and his voice was sultry and low, smooth like velvet, “How much of your little fantasy is just that — a fantasy?” Another step closer. “Have you touched yourself to the idea of impaling yourself on my cock?” Closer. “Played with your hole, imagining it was me stretching you wide open?” 

A moan escaped Harry’s lips and he was acutely aware of his throbbing cock when he nodded ever so slightly in answer to Draco’s question. Even if he had wanted to answer verbally, he lost the ability when Draco straddled him. Soft hair tickled his collarbone when Draco leaned down to murmur into his ear, “Maybe even charmed a dildo to fuck into you?”  
Harry’s gasp was apparently all Draco needed, and instantly there were lips on his.

Moaning into Draco’s mouth Harry eagerly kissed back, sinking a hand into the  
silky hair, pulling them closer together. Draco shifted and the slight hint of friction led Harry to involuntarily buck his hips up against him. Chuckling, Draco pushed Harry back into the armchair, tutted and got up. He went back to the sofa, sat down and stretched his arms out over the backrest, raising an expectant eyebrow. 

“Well?” His eyes dropped suggestively into his lap. When Harry didn’t move he added, “you kind of have to be on top for this, don't you think?” Harry’s brain finally caught up to what was happening and he nearly leaped out of the armchair, rounding the coffee table in just three strides. 

Draco could practically see the confidence leaving Harry’s body when the man came to an abrupt halt just in front of him. Grabbing his hand, Draco pulled Harry onto his lap. “Don’t worry, we’ll go slow. I won’t hurt you” he whispered into the other’s ear and then gently kissed him again. 

Mere minutes later Harry was grinding against Draco, groaning and sending shivers up his spine. As Draco pulled Harry’s jumper up over his head, Harry stilled and concentrated briefly. Seconds later they were naked and Draco suppressed a moan at the blatant display of wandless magic. He captured the other’s lips again and let his hands wander over the bare skin of Harry, pulling him closer still. Their cocks rubbed against each other leaving them both panting. 

Draco grabbed Harry’s arse, guiding his movements for a moment, until he loosened his grip to let his hand wander towards Harry’s entrance. Breaking their kiss, he asked “lube spell?”

He spread the slickness that appeared on his fingers over the other’s rim and pulled Harry back into a searing kiss with his other hand. Inserting a finger into Harry left Draco’s hand at a weird position, but he ignored the angle of his wrist and pushed his finger deeper into the man on top of him. 

Panting, Harry broke their kiss, his eyes screwed shut and his head thrown back. Draco let him get used to the intrusion and only moved his finger, angling to find the other man's prostate. A smirk crossed Draco’s face when he found it, forcing Harry’s eyes to fly open and a moan to escape his lips. Harry’s hips bucked into his and swiftly back onto the finger still inside of him 

A second finger joined the first when Harry begged Draco for more — make it faster, harder, _more_. The moans rang loud in the otherwise silent living room and Draco had to concentrate not to come on the spot. He focussed all of his attention on stretching Harry, scissoring his fingers and reducing Harry into a quivering mess. 

After a while the begging arose again, “Draco. Please. Please. I’m ready. PLEASE!” but Draco made no move to remove his fingers from Harry’s arse. Frustrated, Harry pushed Draco into the sofa, forcing him to pull his fingers out. Without any great preamble, Harry grabbed Draco’s cock, conjured more lube, and lowered himself onto it, moaning loudly. Draco threw his head back, moaning loudly as well , as the stimulation and the change of position hit him. Hands reached towards hips and he grabbed Harry as he tried to refrain from bucking up into him. 

It took Harry a moment to get used to the stretch, but once he did, he started fucking himself on Draco’s cock, riding him in earnest. Draco’s hands were still clutching at Harry’s hips, tight enough that it would probably bruise. “Harry” he groaned urgently, wanting to move, _needing_ to move, to meet Harry’s downwards motion with a thrust of his own.  
“Yes Draco, please. Oh my god please move. Fuck me, please!” begged Harry all while still grinding onto him. 

Pressing his shoulder blades into the backrest, Draco thrust into Harry, who dug his fingernails into the pale chest, as the head of Draco’s cock hit his prostate. Gripping Harry’s hips even tighter, Draco thrust into Harry over and over again, the slapping of their skin mixing with their panting and their moans. 

Draco could feel himself getting close to the edge but he wanted to feel Harry come undone before him. “Touch yourself,” he moaned, desperation making his request less demanding than intended, but Harry complied nonetheless. The sight of Harry on top of him, fisting his hand over his own cock would be seared into his mind forever.. 

Having been on the edge of coming ever since he had seated himself onto Draco’s cock, Harry only tugged himself a few times before he came with a guttural moan all over Draco’s chest. 

The constricting and contracting of the walls around his cock was enough to drive Draco over the edge as well, as he buried himself deep into Harry. 

He was still coming down from his high, cock still inside Harry, when the raven haired man leaned close again. Breathless and chuckling, he murmured, “Never have I ever ridden two dragons.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized I never got around to telling why Draco was walking the grounds:  
> It is a habit left over from the war, when Draco was looking for every and any excuse to not be in the manor surrounded by the death eaters. So under the disquise of checking the perimeters and the wards, he walked the outer edge of the property each day. He kept this routine after the war because he found that it helped him sort his mind and he simply liked looking at nature.
> 
> honorable mentions to the phrase "and then they fuck, the end" which appeared the solid amount of 5 (five) times in the rough draft of this fic. I was very tempted to leave it in.
> 
> Kudos and comments keep me writing :)


End file.
